Fear
by outstretched-desolation
Summary: Its a simple word really. Fear. Four letters, but endless meaning. Basically, Stiles is deserted on an island and Derek just happens to be there. Read at own risk. Uncompleted one shot.


New Story! Don't judge but it is inspired by the CW's show _Arrow._

You have fun.

_Fear_

The overwhelming feeling created by horrific unease. An element in which the body conspires with the brain to reach a point that breaches the emotional limits of a selected victim. A way that proves universal evil. A desire to launch an action, intending disturbance. A disoriented connection of all the hatred amongst us. A pathway filled with deranged passion that disintegrates the happiness in our lives. A disease that distracts the mind from the hurting ache. A hopeless misery causing the downfall of wonder and devotion. A discovery of escaping reality. An unsolved mystery that trembles and flies. A despair-filled reach towards recovery.

It's a simple word really. Fear. Four letters, but endless meaning. A bottomless pit full of events where fear is the key role that pushes everything around. Fear holds on to you, throws you, entangles you in a life you never wanted to have. Fear takes a hold of you and makes you feel things you never wanted to feel. Things you never wanted to imagine.

But what causes fear? What triggers this emotion to set off in our minds? Can it be the unwanted? Or the unknown?

The fear that arose in Stiles, caused by the unknown future that was inevitably masked with the unwanted, overruled what he thought. What he had believed. Because what had happened, had been frightening, dark, lonely. A display of pure evil that changed the way he looked at the simple things. He would never have imagined these things to happen to him. What he had felt had been unreal. A fiery passion burned a hole through his chest, leaving a crisp hole behind.

But he would never take the memory away. For what he went through was hell, but what he had gotten in return, was blissful heaven. He received a package in the form of a human, he now had the man that he never knew he wanted. The man he would never had found if it wasn't for the daunting event. All the fear he endured was worth the while. He had lost so much, most of it, being the things he loved. He had nothing for a while. He was deserted. Left to die. Not by another person, but by some act of nature that made the decision to kill off his entire family.

They were on a cruise. His dad had been laid off. The ageist bastards thought it was okay to fire someone for their age. At the same time, his mother was sick. A death-wish that was terribly unfortunate. It was a hard time for all of them. To vent out the unnecessary anger that had built up in all their veins, his dad purchased their places on an expensive vacation. To celebrate the previous life, when we were all extraordinarily happy together. His aunts and uncles, grandparents, everyone was there to help each other overpass the petrifying period of time. Stiles thought it was fun, delicious food. The best part were all the extremely attractive people all over the place. His mom, Claudia, caught him at a weak moment when his eyes were on this hot blonde, blue-eyed guy. She gave Stiles a wink and turned back to her food.

Later on, that very guy approached him. His parents were off, probably playing shuffleboard or something. He was sitting in a chair, only a very miniscule three feet between him and the railing, protecting him from the perilous waves. The guy, Stiles learned later that his name was James, it had been too late to give James his name, he had walked up, and plopped down right into the seat next to Stiles'. James said hey, and asked Stiles if he was having fun or not. Stiles had still been confused at why the guy was there. He answered with a simple, 'yeah, it's been fun'. They entered a tense moment of awkwardness. Stiles knew James was thinking, he didn't know what his thoughts were focused on, but he just knew it was about something.

He never had the time to find out. Stiles heard a crash, a loud bang, an indescribable noise seemingly related to a pipe of some sort. Next came the screams. Shouts of outstretched desolation originating in the very throats of his fellow passengers. Stiles thought that he heard his mom at one point, but now he didn't know for sure. He was unaware at that point that his life was being demolished, that it was crumbling up to pieces. All his attention was on the misery that had made its way onto everyone's faces. It was as though the wind was blowing harder, the clouds were hiding the sun, enveloping the sea with darkness.

That same darkness came to Stiles soon. He turned back to James. Only to be horrified by the sight of him being swallowed by the water as he flung over the railing. It snapped Stiles back to reality. Clinging to his inner hope, he wanted more than anything for the safety of his family. He spun around frantically, trying to locate his mother and father. He sped across the deck, tripping over the unbalance. Looking around, more and more bodies were taken by the waves. All people he had seen at random times throughout the getaway. Tears soaked the floor and everyone turned on each other and shoves were exchanged.

There she was. His mom and dad were clutching on to one another. He busted into a full sprint to reach them. I met my mom's gaze and her face was a mix of bewilderment and happiness. She was ecstatic to see me, probably for the last time. I didn't reach them in time. The waves shifted. I fell to the floor. The boat rocked way too far in the wrong direction. His parents were gone. They were gone for his life for the rest of time. Stiles got his footing and stumbled back down. The commotion around him started to blur. He shut his eyes, wishing anything that would help this disappear. He opened them. Half of the crowd had left the boat since he had shut his eyes in the first place. Stiles didn't see the point in holding on to the boat anymore. He stood up one last time. Saw the last few people fly off and took his own leap.

His last few thought left his mind as he hit the water and his world went black.

Insanity. Guilt. Joy.

All these emotions flooded Stiles when he was awoken by his own choking. He was clinging to life. On a random-ass beach in the middle of nowhere. He laid there for a while, his brain making its way back to what had happened. His eyes were crowded with tears. Of course, he was grateful to be alive. Yet, what was the purpose of a living a life with nothing to strive for. Specifically, no _one_ to strive for. His family was gone. Part of himself was washed away in the currents of the treacherous Pacific. He laid there even longer. Waiting for some paranormal force to take him to another realm. A place where he would be at peace. A place where there was no shipwreck. A place where his family was.

He was in a big deal of physical pain as well. His whole body was soaked, coated with the sand that was currently scraping skin off. His head was throbbing at extreme rates. His mind raced with thoughts. His legs hurt from all the tumbles he took. His stomach ached for one more moment with his amazing family.

So he just laid there even more. It felt as if days had passed by, but he was well aware it was only a few minutes. He stood up, trying to maintain his balance. He took even more damage as he fell multiple times walking along the rusty beach. He did not know where he was going. He had no set destination. There was nothing to do. He had just entered a field that'll unlikely set him free after many hours – days -even years of relentless disaster. He was doomed. Life had screwed him over. Stiles tried to brainwash himself into believing that everything happens for a reason or some bullshit about destiny. Yeah, he was marooned on an island, but something good did happen. Stiles' terribly unfortunate days were about to be taken, and exchanged for a little peace.

Stiles had been trapped. He was stuck in an endless battle for survival. He was cold most of the time. He barely ever had food. He sucked what little water he good get off of leaves on trees. The worst of it all, was how insane he was getting from being alone. He talked to himself to keep him company. He befriended a squirrel at one point. He started to convince himself that his mom was there with him. His hands and feet were colored black with dirt. His hair was dusty and rough. His clothes had torn from his body, leaving a mess of cloth that hung on to his body for dear life. His feet were constantly bleeding, covered in blisters cuts. He had trouble walking sometimes. He felt light headed all hours of the day. Just breathing was making Stiles uncomfortable.

But what was the point of it all? To be saved? Sure, getting off the damn island would make him happy, but what else would he do back home. He had little friends. All of whom have other people who are better than he is. He would be the second choice no matter what. Scott had Isaac and Allison. Erica had Boyd. Lydia had someone at all times. Who did he have back home that cared enough to realize that Stiles should have been home weeks ago? The thought made him shiver with emotion. He couldn't bear the picture of everyone sitting around, laughing at some joke, unaware of the world going on. It made Stiles become philosophical. He reasoned with himself. He believed that if the entire human race moved on without him, why should he be struggling to live in the first place?

He sat, crying into his arms. He couldn't. He could not take his own life. Not when he was spared the pain of dying already. Stiles got up one last time to look around some more. The beach seemed to continue onwards for thousands of miles. He started to wonder where exactly on the map he was. His boat was in the Pacific, so does that mean that he had landed on some uncharted territory?

These thoughts occupied his brain for a few short moments, as depression swept over him like a tidal wave once more. Tears had been flowing out of his eyes nonstop for the longest time. He tried to blame anything and everything for the death of so many people. He blamed the designer of the boat. He blamed the person who fired his dad. He blamed the noise that had vibrated the ships walls. He chased every sign of closure he could get. He found that every day, it got harder and harder to picture people's faces in his mind. He barely remembered his parent's faces. He couldn't withdraw anyone else's appearance from his mind. He didn't even remember the blonde guy who had been the first one to be victimized by the ocean.

Desperation for civilization claimed to be the one thing that Stiles had most. He needed some sort of sign that humans still existed. He released this anger by throwing every last thing that he could find on the beach into the water. The tide would wash it back onto to shore, and then it would claim it once again. He wandered through the forest, hoping to find a last resort food item of any kind. This life was destroying him. After what Stiles predicted had been a month, a new feeling took over his mind.

Fear.

He feared that he would stay here forever. He feared that he was going to die soon. He feared that his body would never be found. He feared that he would be forgotten. He would become someone who was known only for the pitiful event that they had gone through.

And just as Stiles was beginning to contemplate the decision of killing himself, he was saved. He wasn't rescued to point where he rid the island forever, but his mental health had been cured. He had found another person. A black haired man with sharp eyes. Stiles was sitting on the beach, staring off into the ocean. Pondering the question of how long it would take to drown. He had finally made up his mind to do it. He was going to die anyway. Why not end it on his own terms? He flew into the ocean and tried as hard as he could to not resurface. Out of nowhere, he was grabbed. Two hands grabbed each of his shoulders and he was catapulted back on to the beach. He heard a bone rack as he landed on his arm. He cursed at his pain, clenching on to his arm and keeping his eyes shut.

"You might want to get that checked." Stiles heard an unknown, gritty voice say. His eyes burst open. He let go of his hurt arm and looked up. A man was standing above him. He looked intimidating. There was a huge scowl on his face, but the concern in his eyes was genuine. Stiles couldn't speak, but he knew he needed to say something.

"How long have you been here?" The man spoke again.

"A-a month." Stiles stuttered, surprising himself at the amount of words he managed to form.

"Come with me." He ordered, waving his hand in another direction. Stiles was led into the forest, deeper than he had ever gone on his own. More and more cuts developed on his legs as he walked in the pure silence. He stared at the man before him. He had no shirt, which was okay with Stiles, and his pants were basically torn to shreds. How long has this guy been here? What was his name? How had he ended up on this hell bound island.

They walked for a while. The man never spoke. He trailed Stiles to an open clearing with nothing, across a river and back into the forest. Stiles grew tired. He thought about the fact that it was possible that he may be eaten. Or brutally chopped up. Well, he was going to die anyways, why not let someone else do the honors for him?

After a lot of endless walking, the man jumped. He stopped in his tracks and raised his hand. His ears twitched as if he had heard something, then he kept going. Not even five minutes later, they reached their intended destination. In a clearing much like the ones they passed, laid a small above ground hut. It seemed sturdy and it was made of bamboo and leaves. A ladder led up to the hut and the man instructed Stiles to climb it. He did just that and the man followed. The man sat in a corner and stared at Stiles. It was this extreme death stare.

"Who are you?" He asked.

"Stiles." Stiles responded without stuttering.

"Where are you from?"

"America. Specifically Beacon Hills." The man flinched at the answer.

"How did you get here?"

"Shipwreck."

"Are you alone?"

"Yes, now can you answer all those questions yourself?"

"Okay, my name is Derek Hale, I got here the same way and yes, I am alone." The man said quickly.

"Wait, you didn't say where you were from?"

"That's because I don't want to tell you." The man snapped. He then got up and left. He didn't return for quite some time. Stiles began to wonder where this guy was from. He didn't care much because now he was aware of what his insanity level was at.

Finally, the man returned. And what should he bring? Food. He brought back one of the things Stiles was hoping he didn't die from.

"Thank you." Stiles exclaimed, shoving the now cooked fish in his mouth. The man just smiled, it wasn't creepy, which made Stiles sigh with relief. The smile matched the man's eyes and the features competed with concern. Overall, Stiles knew he wasn't saved, but he was almost sure that he was going to live a lot more comfortably now that Derek was there. The thought of death still loitered in Stiles' mind. Over the next few nights, Derek asked him more and more questions. Almost all of them concerning his passed family or his old friends.

This didn't create any suspicion. It should have, because what Stiles didn't know, was that Derek was from Beacon Hills. Derek had gone to the same school that Stiles should be at now. Derek lived in the same neighborhood that Stiles lived in. Derek's life seemed to mime Stiles' in every way, shape, or form. Of course, Derek never shared any of the information with Stiles. It was a coincidence that all this information seemed to line up. The strangest thing was that his family's story was the exact same.

His mom was sick as well and his dad had gotten fired too. He was also a police officer. The rest of his family had died in the shipwreck along with his parents. It wasn't just the same story though. Because Derek arrived on this island years before, about a month before he had found Stiles on the beach. He recognized Stiles. Derek remembered Stiles. Somehow, he knew that they had seen each other at least once before. It was an odd feeling.

At this point, Derek had given up on being rescued. Instead, he focused on surviving. He taught Stiles all the right techniques to survival. Over time, Stiles grew an attraction to Derek. He didn't know if it was just a 'last person on earth' feeling or if it was a real attraction. He was happy to see Derek perform daily tasks, every day, his pants got more and more shredded. Soon, they were completely off and Derek was left to survive in his underwear.

Derek was chopping down a tree one day to help reinforce the shelter. Stiles couldn't help but stare.

"Stiles?" Derek questioned almost sarcastic.

"Yeah?"

"Get your eyes off my ass."

Stiles cursed and smiled. After a month and a half of nothing but misery, Stiles smiled. His physical and emotional state had both been saved. He still thought of his family every single day, but he came to terms with his fate and lived with it. He still yelled at the sky sometimes and cried over the pain that the other passengers had gone through. But he survived.

Stiles was okay.

So? Did you like chapter 1?

It is going to take a while for chapter 2.

I hope you enjoyed it because I had fun writing it.

In the middle, the whole writing style changed. I don't know why.

~Stuff~


End file.
